Rotters
by cgal120
Summary: My name is Arthur Kirkland. I'm 18 years old and I suffer from PDS... At the age of 16 I lost two of my best friends which drove me over the edge, but now I have the right medication I can begin again. However, the village I live in hated me before I developed PDS - and they definitely don't want me back now. UKxFem!US. In The Flesh AU. (Zombie AU)
1. PDS

**Rotters**

**Chapter One**

**PDS**

Typically, most stories start at the very beginning – you have to build up the background to be able to successfully talk about what is going on in the now. But for me, the very beginning of my story wasn't really as great as I had hoped it would be.

Even now, you wouldn't really think that my life was that great – but that's what I get for suffering PDS…

The clinic was clean and white, nothing was out of place and the patients were forced to walk around in long queues. Single file like a prison. That's what it felt like at least. We all wore the same gaudy, plain white uniform – a long grey tunic with baggy grey trousers. Every day was the same, and I had grown accustomed to seeing the same old faces every single morning as I was walked into the meeting hall.

My routine was set and had not changed in the year that I had been at the PDS Clinic. I would wake up in the morning to the sound of the slamming metal doors and the soft kind voices of the doctors and nurses as the came round to make sure we were all okay; then I would be walked with my roommate, Francis, down to the meeting room where would sit around and talk with the doctors in the group sessions; then we would be walked to the back rooms where the doctors would administer our medication before being taken to our one-on-one sessions; finally, we would be sent back to our rooms where we could either sit and talk to one another or try to go to sleep.

I can hear the questions now – when do you guys eat? Don't they feed you at this place? The simple response to that is no. No, we don't get fed at this place. The medication takes away our hunger.

This might be a good place to explain that… My name is Arthur Kirkland, I am 18 years old and I suffer from Partially Deceased Syndrome.

I used to have a relatively normal life, I suppose. I lived in a small village in the midlands of England with my mother, Elizabeth, my father, James, and my older sister, Scarlet. I was the student body president at my school, I had the best grades that I could possibly hope for, but I had very little friends. I wasn't the most popular of people anywhere – not at school and not in the village; I was the wimpy kid that didn't do very well at sports but had the intellect to be able to take me to any college or university in the world. I could outwit anyone chasing me through the woods and managed to make my way around areas I had never been before and still be home for tea.

I had two friends – two cousins, Alfred and Amelia Jones. But they had a troubled family and one that I wasn't allowed to know the true inner workings of. Alfred was the bold, heroic type – he used to be one of the first to stick up for me if he was nearby when the bullying began. He was tall, handsome and kind to everyone – but his father was the prejudice-type. Anyone that didn't meet the standards that his set was not worth his time – and even though I got better grades that Alfred in almost all our subjects at school, George still thought of me than less than the dirt his son walked on.

Amelia was very similar to Alfred in that she would stand by me no matter what the situation was, but she was warmer than Alfred and gentler. However, she was very weak. She suffered with illnesses a lot whilst we were growing up and when college began in 2011, she was diagnosed with leukaemia. A month or two after the diagnosis was given and her chemotherapy began, Alfred had managed to fake his age and get into the army – he came to me one day and told me to look out for Amelia and that was it. I never saw him again – he had gone to the barracks in the south to do his training and was shipped out to Afghanistan.

Amelia Jones died at the age of 16 at 13:12pm on the 21st of September 2011.

And Alfred was nowhere to be found.

No matter what my family said to me, I just couldn't bring myself to smile anymore. Nothing any of my college friends said to me, I couldn't be happy. The girl that had stuck by me through everything, the one who never ran away from the village and me was gone and it had made me felt sick that something so cruel could happen to someone so kind.

The night of her funeral, the 9th of October 2011, I gave up. The day had been solemn and I could feel the eyes of the on-lookers piercing through me as I laid a single rose on her coffin – she had asked to be buried there, and I knew that the rose was her favourite flower. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, all I wanted was to be put down there with her. I'd felt Scarlet's hand on my shoulder, gripping it tightly as if she could sense what was going on in my head – but I shrugged her away and stomped off.

I'd gone home. But I'd gone to the kitchen and found the Swiss army knife that my father had given me for my birthday. It was a coming of age present for my sixteenth birthday. I left the house before anyone saw me and hurried off down the road to the woods. Once I was there, I went in deep; right to an area Alfred, Amelia and I had found when we were 13. It was a small tunnel leading to a cave… I crawled inside and looked around, stopping and sitting on the cold, dirty stone and looked up. _AJ2 + AK BFFS 5EVER_. Amelia had written it to connect us forever… It was the best place for me, my eyes closed tight as I pressed the sharp blade in my wrists and cut upwards…

I'd rather not go into the gory details of what happened next – but it is a vital part of my story. Because 2011 was the year that the dead rose. I'd woke up in the dark and all I could feel was an emptiness in my stomach. My voice came out in grunts as I tried to call for help, but I soon managed to find the strength to break through the decaying wood of the coffin I had been buried in and drag myself out of the damp earth…

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Would you like to go first today, Arthur?" said Doctor Wang. I looked up from my connection with the tiles – I always did that; keep my head low, my voice quiet and hopefully no one notice me. I had been in the clinic for a year – I was 18 years old now, the outbreak not quite over but calmed thanks to the help of the government-funded clinics. Doctor Wang was good and picking up that habit now. I sighed a little and looked him in the eyes – he was a small man with long brown hair tied back into a pony tail and his eyes were a light shade of brown. My eyes used to be green but now they were a broken shade of pale blue, my pupils small and jagged. Doctor Wang stood out amongst the rest of us – one living amongst 7 PDS suffers, all of us with different wounds from how we died but similar traits like the limp messy hair, pale eyes and skin.

"Sure…" I muttered, glancing at Francis as he nudged me slightly to make me hurry up and answer. Honestly, I had a love-hate relationship with Francis – he was taller than me by about an inch and had long wavy blonde hair. He said his eyes used to be a deep blue colour but they were grey now thanks to natural decay. He wouldn't tell me how he died though, but he had managed to guess from the stitched up wounds on my wrists how I had croaked.

"How are you feeling today?" asked Doctor Wang, getting his clipboard ready to note down anything that I said.

"I'm… okay," I replied, running my cold fingers through my hair. "The flashbacks have been getting worse, but I know that's meant to happen…"

"That's correct," Doctor Wang said, smiling at me. "The medication is meant to neutralise any hunger you may get and one of the side effects is that you will start to remember parts of what happened during your… untreated state."

"So, we get to relive our times as rabid zombies then?" Francis said, rolling his eyes as he slouched in his chair.

"Partially Deceased Syndrome suffers," said Doctor Wang, putting emphasis on the 'decease' name. We all knew that it was a crock of shit, but I tried to at least humour Doctor Wang – he was only doing his job. "What have you been remembering, Arthur?"

This was the part I had been dreading, having to recall to him my dreams. It made me feel ill to know what I had done to people when I was rabid – I was nothing more than I cold hearted killer. "…I was with the pack," I uttered quietly. "The group I had found to hunt with. There was me, 2 other guys… and blonde girl… The guys were eating somewhere else inside a store in the village we used to live in, but I had found a corpse just lying around in the crisps aisle. The girl and I… we were… you know… when a shopping cart came zooming down and we heard a scream. A girl was there, living and breathing… I could smell the blood… She'd cut her leg when her cart had hit our… dinner… and she was holding it on the floor. She was wearing a military-like outfit, but she wasn't in the army. She was black and her hair was long and brown, tied into two pig tails with red ribbons… We… We…"

"It's okay, Arthur," Doctor Wang said, giving me a kind expression. "It's good that you remember and know now that you are not evil. Now, I want you to tell me: what are you, Arthur?"

"I am a Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer," I said, my voice hoarse again. "And what I did in my untreated state was not my fault."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Francis and I were lined up with the rest of the patients on our way to get out medication. I was always in two minds about this stuff – it was injected into a whole in the back of my neck from this clear bottle. It was a special green liquid that the government had ordered scientists to concoct when the outbreak had originally happened. Apparently the worst place in the country had been the village I had lived…

The reason that I was 50/50 with this stuff was simple – I either refused to take it and be put down like a dog by the doctors before I turned rabid again, or I took and endured the reminders of what I did when I was rabid. And I didn't want the memories of those days – the images of my fellow PDS suffers haunted me almost as much as the pictures of the people I had…

I was stood behind Francis in the queue, looking at my feet as per the norm. The time was ticking away loudly on the big industrial clock on the wall – 14:17pm. I shifted my weight from foot to foot before feeling a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Francis looking down at me with the same expression he always wore when looking at me – a mixture of worry and boredom.

"Arthur, do you really think that this place is here to help us?" he asked me out of the blue. I blinked, shrugging my shoulders a little. I never talked that much around him, just on the odd occasion when he asked me more than a shrug or nod of the head could answer. "I don't think it is…"

"Why do you think that?" I asked, a sigh laced in my tone. He always was coming up with conspiracy theories.

"There's this guy," Francis said. "He talks online about how the government are trying to integrate us back into our home communities, to make us have the same rights as when we were alive, but how it is all a farce. You see how they treat us in this place – be a good boy and take your medication or we will force you into the back and bash your brains in."

"You make it seem so romantic," I replied sarcastically.

"I don't trust them," Francis muttered, stepping forwards as the queue moved on. I shook my head and looked up at the back of his as I followed.

"You don't trust anyone," I said.

"I trust you," he countered. "Look, this guy is on to something big. I can feel it. He talks about so much good stuff for us. When you get the chance, check it out." I narrowed my eyes as he handed me a scrunched up piece of paper, opening it quickly and looking at his curly scrawl. He'd written down a web address and a password.

"How did you find this?" I asked. "Our web usage is monitored…"

"This is a protected website," Francis hissed, motioning for me to keep my voice down. "You use that password to get into it but then only you can see it. No one can access it afterwards unless you put the password back in and on any other computer like the system here all they see is Google! It's really smart."

"You did something smart? Hardly likely," I said.

"Shut it," Francis snapped. "Look, just check this out when you go okay? You get to leave tomorrow… I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't be an idiot, Francis," I said. "You're leave date is this time next week. You'll be going home to your family again."

"Oui," he said, but looked round as he got to the door of Medication Room 8. "Oui… Look, it's been fun, Arthur. It really has…"

"What…" I started to say, but then I saw him take something. I small blue pill I had never seen before. Narrowing my eyes again, I looked at him as he sighed contently. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, his pupils were dilating – they weren't meant to do that… "Francis, what did you take?"

He grinned at me dopily though as he was lead into the room, leaving me stood in the doorway with a male nurse. I looked at him and tried to tell him what was going on, but he wouldn't listen to me – he had no cause to as I was just another patient. Just another Rotter. I watched as Francis was leant forwards to take the medication, but as soon as it entered his system he started to foam at the mouth. He snarled, his pupils so wide that you couldn't see his irises.

I was evacuated with the other patients – sent back to our rooms to be given the medication there. But all I could hear as I walked down the corridor to my room was the rabid snarls of my friend and the shouts of the doctors who were about to put him down.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Are you ready for today, Arthur?"

I looked at Doctor Wang as I sat in his office – today was the day I would be allowed to go home, to be put back into my old life like I hadn't killed myself, like I hadn't risen from my grave and eaten people… Nodding, I looked back down at my lap.

"I… Actually… no," I sighed. "I don't feel ready at all…"

"That's normal," smiled Doctor Wang. "It's human to feel nervous."

I nodded again. Human. I liked the sound of it, but that was the problem though. Humans had a saying I had heard whispered around the clinic since the day I had got there. 'Hunt the dead, fear the living'. "So, what do we have to do to get me ready to go, Doc?"

"Well, first I'll give you your medication for the day, then we'll go get your change of clothes," Doctor Wang explained. "Then you'll be given your concealer and 3 sets of contact lenses at the same colour your eyes were before you developed PDS. I'll help you prepare and then you'll be allowed to join your parents."

"Okay," I said. With that I was given the medication and went through the same flashbacks as before. As we went through the building in search of all the items that I would need and the papers that would need to be signed by my mother and father at the time of my release, neither myself or Doctor Wang talked about what had happened to Francis the day before. I honestly didn't want to know because I already did – it wouldn't have taken a great deal of brain power to figure out what had happened to my friend, and I knew that I would have to be honest with any questions put to me about what had happened just before his death.

That would mean handing over that piece of paper – and I was starting to get curious about what was on that site for Francis to have taken such drastic action… It may have also been my only chance at finding out where he got that mysterious drug from because everything was regulated in this place to stop accidents like that from ever happening.

By the end of the 'treatment' I looked human again. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I saw myself again. My hair was the style of messy I had perfected in my living days, my eyes (though not totally accurate) were green again and my skin looked healthy again – the concealer did a world of good. Instead of the clinic tunic, I was now wearing a tidy pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a striped maroon hooded jacket. After putting on a pair of trainers, I was ready to go.

That's when the nervous tension returned to my chest.

I hadn't seen my parents in such a long time, and the last they had seen me they were burying me… This was going to be such an awkward experience…

Looking round as the door opened, I saw Doctor Wang stood waiting for me. They were stood outside the room in the hallway, I knew that much. Doctor Wang had told me to keep getting ready whilst he explained procedures to my parents and made sure that they were totally prepared to take me home.

"Arthur, you can come out now if you're ready," he said.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forwards and left the small sanctuary that I had building in my mind inside that room.

"Oh…!"

I looked at my parents and remained silent for a moment – they were older, most likely from the stress I had caused them but they were the same. Mum, the same height as me and just as blonde as the day I had died. She had a few streaks of grey hidden amongst the blonde but her green eyes were wide and damp as they looked over my frame. Dad, tall and averagely built, his hair still bright red and his green eyes just a shade darker than Mum's.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad," I said, smiling a little.

"Oh, Arthur!" exclaimed Mum, hurrying over to me and wrapping her arms around me as she cried. "I am so happy to… I…"

"It's okay, Mum," I said softly, wrapping my arms back around her small frame and kissing her cheek. "I'm so sorry for what I did…"

"You look… You look well, Son," Dad said, coming over and clapping his hand to my shoulder. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Dad."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Once the papers were signed, my parents walked with me back out to our family car. For once, everything seemed normal again. I sat in the back, in the same seat I had when I was 16. It was the same – the smells, the feel, the whole warmth that I could feel.

And as we drove back to the village, we all talked. Just like a normal family.

"I've been collecting so many DVDs since… Well, since the world calmed down," Dad smiled. "Everything's been tidied up as best it could. I've only just started getting round to watching some of them... We could sit and have movie nights, if you want! Like a family, like we used to!"

"I'd like that," I replied. "What do you have?"

"Too many," Mum laughed. Dad chuckled too, the sound making my lips twitch up of their own accord.

"I have… oh let's see… Uh, Supernatural, Sherlock, Charmed, Fast and Furious, Iron Man, Transformers…" Dad started to list. "But you can check them out for yourself when we get home. You can even use them on your laptop and just sit in your room like you used to with them."

"You kept my room?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course we did," Mum smiled. "We touched nothing. It's exactly as you left it. Even those silly social networking feeds are the same, but I… wouldn't use those for a while."

"I wasn't going to," I replied. "I don't think it would be a good idea for them to see an active profile of a dead guy."

"Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer," Dad sighed.

"Sorry," I said, looking out of the window. We were coming up to the bridge that let the motor way cross over the road that led into the village. There was graffiti on it though – 'God Bless The HVF'. "What's the HVF?" I asked.

"…You don't have to worry about that," Mum said, glancing at Dad.

"No, tell me," I said.

"When we get home," Dad said. "It's a long story."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

As we drove along the narrow village roads towards our home, I smiled almost fondly at how very little seemed to have changed within the confines of the town. I could see more graffiti marking buildings as we got deeper into the village, all of it making remarks of the brilliance of the HVF.

However, as we got near the turn off to be able to get to our home, Dad stopped the car for a moment as we saw a group of people stood in the middle of the road.

"Get down," Dad said, pushing me down to hide in the gap of the seats. He and Mum then put their coats and her bag on me, effectively hiding me from sight. I kept silent, holding my breath and remaining still as we drove ever closer to the group. That's when we stopped again and I heard Dad roll down his window slightly.

"Alright, Rom?" he said.

"Everything's okay," said a voice with a deep Italian accent. I recognised it as the voice of Pastor Romulus Vargas – the father of my old friends, Lovina and Feliciana. "Where have you been, we never saw you at the meeting today?"

"Oh, we went out for a drive," Mum said. "The fresh air does wonders for my headaches."

"Aw, yes," said a deeper voice. George, Alfred's father. "That's understandable. But you should be more careful. You know the government is starting to put Rotters back into the country. Never know when you might come across a rabid one."

"We know, George," Dad said, his tone tired. "Can we get home now? You haven't got Scarlet out working tonight have you?"

"She was working this morning so I don't think so," he replied. "I rarely ask her to be honest though, James. She just… shows up."

"She's 19 though, she shouldn't be doing this," Dad sighed. "Anyway, we'll see you later, okay? Have a drink and the Son and Arms, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," George said, laughing heartily before we drove away. I stayed hidden until I felt Mum tug at me once the car stopped again. We were back home again, and it – like everything else – was just the same as before. I was snuck inside via the back door once we were parked up in the driveway.

I looked around the house and smiled once the door was locked. There were some changes, like more photos but some of me were still out in the same places they had always been. My old shoes were still by the door, jackets hung up on the coat rack… It was like my parents had refused to let me go…

I followed Mum through to the kitchen, sitting down at the table as she made herself, Dad and Scarlet dinner. I had no need to eat regular food or drink as it would only make me ill, so I was just content to sit with them as they ate.

Then the front door opened. I smiled as I turned around, looking up as Scarlet walked into the kitchen from the living room. Her eyes widened as she saw me though.

"Hi, Scarlet," I said, looking her up and down. She still had the same bright red hair like Dad, but her make-up was darker and her nails were painted dark. She was in military camouflage though – like the girl in my flashbacks – with an armband that said 'HVF'. Her eyes darkened as she looked at me, and she stepped back into the doorway in disgust.

"No, I am not sitting in the same room as that thing!" she spat in revulsion.

"Scarlet, don't be so rude!" Mum snapped. "That is your baby brother!"

"That Rotter is not my brother!" she shouted, storming out of the room and upstairs.

Looking down for a moment, I sighed and glanced at my parents. "Are you going to tell me about the HVF now?" I asked. "Because I saw the band on Scarlet's arm, and I'm pretty sure that I have to worry now."

There was a long pause before Mum rubbed her temples and glanced at Dad. "Okay," she said. "Okay… Back when the outbreak first happened, our village was hit the worst… So, a team was created – one that spread across the country. We are the only village to still have an order like this, but… the HVF is the Human Volunteer Force. They are trained and have the mindset to wipe out… PDS sufferers. Scarlet, though we said no, joined a couple of months ago. And George Jones is the leader of this village's team…"

"He became even more determined after…"

"After what?" I asked.

Another pause happened, until Dad sighed and looked me full in the face. "On the day of Amelia's funeral… George got a call from… Oh, I don't know what to say… Basically, Alfred… Alfred was caught in a blast in Afghanistan… He was out on duty and they haven't found him yet… They just know he…"

"Alfred died…" I said, looking at my parents in shock. "No…"

"It was a tough time for all of us," Mum said, wiping her eyes on her handkerchief. "You and Amelia had died… Then the news of Alfred spread around the village… No one was really the same after… Like something in the village itself had died…"

"I… I'm tired," I said, getting up. "I'm going to go to my room now… Uh, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Son," Dad said.

As I hurried upstairs, my head was overflowing with thoughts. I just couldn't comprehend what was happening… I got to the landing and looked around, spotting lights flashing in what I remembered to be Scarlet's room. I walked down the hall to the door and looked inside, only to have to duck out of the way as a book was thrown at me.

"FUCK OFF, ROTTER," she shouted.

"…Sorry…" I muttered, walking away from the door down to my own room. It was just as they said it would be. Slowly, I took off the concealer and removed the contact lenses to put them back in the cleaning solution. There I was, the face that I could remember from those long months in the clinic. I started at my reflection for a while until I had enough and got into bed.

What was living really? Because this didn't feel like it…

_**Notes:**_

**Hey! Welcome to a new little thing that wouldn't leave me alone!**

**I've been watching a series on BBC called **_**In The Flesh**_** and got inspired to make an AU of it! **

**I've been trying to work on Homeless Hearts but I've decided to put it on hiatus until inspiration hits. **

**But for now, I hope you enjoy this series :)**

**And though it's in the description I'll put it here too:**

**UKxFem!US. Hetero story again. Sorry guys if you were looking for a homosexual tale, but… you can enjoy the bromance instead? **


	2. God Bless The HVF

**Rotters**

**Chapter Two**

**God Bless The HVF**

My dreams that night were riddled with the images of that poor girl. I knew, even in my sleep that it was all just a dream induced by the medication I had taken earlier that day, but at the same time it was all so vivid that it felt as though I had slipped back into those ways, back into those dark days where cannibalism was my only form of survival.

I stood in the middle of the shopping centre, in the middle of the aisle looking around at all the products that were still lined up on the shelves. Hundreds of packets of crisps, bottles of fizzy drinks and water; some of the products still stood up proudly like they had recently been set down whilst others looked like they had been rummaged through my some poor person trying to find supplies in a hurry.

At the end of the aisle a man was lying on the floor, his head bleeding from an open wound like he had been bashed in the skull a couple of times with a brick or a cricket bat. He had been there when we had wandered inside, and the blonde haired girl whose face I could never see went for him straight away – her fingers digging into the flesh of his wound and pulling it open so that blood and brains slipped out onto the floor. Not wanting to be left out of the feast, I walked over and dropped to my knees, taking some of the flesh for myself before the girl decided to eat all of it for herself.

But then I heard the talking, a girl's voice which had a strange accent. There was another voice too, like one coming through a walkie-talkie. They were having a conversation but the first voice was being drowned out slightly by the squeaking wheels of an old shopping cart and the rustles of bags being moved. I figured that she was the one that had been chosen to go get supplies that day – they always sent a different person in hopes that they would throw us off whilst getting different supplies each day, but we had caught on soon enough.

Soon, the sound of the wheels got closer to us but they were fast – too fast to be someone just walking along like normal. Sensing something was about to happen, I moved out of the way and watched as a trolley collided with the corpse I had been eating – startling the blonde haired girl into moving away for a moment.

The girl went flying over the trolley, screaming in agony as she hit the ground and clutching her leg. She seemed to have sprained her knee in some way, which only made her more easy prey. She panted harshly, her brown pigtails messy from the fall and in her face as she struggled to her feet once more. She looked around with wide brown eyes, her leg kept bent as though any other position would cause her more pain. I stared at her with my cold dead eyes, calculating her every move and planning my attack in a millisecond. She wouldn't be able to stand against me – I was stronger than her alive and dead and the wound on her knee hindered her further.

She reached for the gun on her belt as she spotted the blonde girl, my companion getting to her feet as she smelt the fear radiating from her. The girl seemed to be only 16 years old, new meat was always the best tasting – especially new meat that was coursing with hormones and sweat from fear and adrenaline. The dark haired girl was focused solely on the blonde girl, her gun aimed at her but before she could even think of pulling the trigger I was behind her…

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I gasped awake and shot upright in my bed, my chest heaving as I tried to calm myself down from the nightmare. My hands covered my face, blocking the sights of everything in my room from my vision for a moment. All I wanted was the blackness of the dark to take everything away again, I didn't want to remember all of that rubbish, and I never wanted any of that to come back to me…

Groaning behind my hands, I sniffed and flopped back against my pillows again. That was the most I had ever remembered about that day, but I had no idea why it was the one memory that haunted me the most of my time as a rabid sufferer… There had to be something more about that time that I hadn't reached yet, but at the same time I really don't want to go any further into the memory.

"What are you?"

Gasping again, I took my hands away from my face quickly and sat up slightly. My eyes squinted slightly at the sudden brightness, but as soon as they adjusted again I came face to face with my older sister. Scarlet was sat on a chair beside my bed, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at me in curiosity. There was a small knife in her hand – one that I knew that she would probably use on me if I had been rabid…

"You look like my brother," she continued. "And you sound like him… But I watched his coffin get lowered into the ground. I was the one that saw Dad carry your body back to the house the day you…"

"Scarlet… It is me," I muttered, looking at her pleadingly. "I really am your little brother… It's me, Arthur…"

"No, you can't be him," Scarlet spat. "You can't be… Cos my younger brother wouldn't have done something so stupid… He wouldn't… Arthur's…"

"Arthur is right here…" I said sadly.

"Prove it," she replied. "Tell me something that only Arthur would know about me."

Looking at her, I sat up properly in my bed and crossed my legs. Tilting my head a little, I gave her smile I knew she would recognise and thought. "I was 14 years old and you were 15 years old," I said. "I was making my way home from school when I saw you sneaking off towards the edge of the village. I didn't know what you were doing, so I decided to follow you and I saw you meeting up with that kid from Holland. You were smoking and laughing and you looked genuinely happy so I left you to it. But when you came in I asked you about it and you freaked out and told me not to tell Mum and Dad. I never told them. Ever."

Scarlet looked at me for a long moment before closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh, biting her lip in an attempt to keep herself from crying. "Why did you do, Arthur?" she whispered. "Why did you kill yourself?"

"I was in a very bad place…" I explained, reaching forward tentatively and placing my hand on hers. She stiffened, but I was glad that she never actually pulled away from me. "Amelia's death and Alfred's abandonment… It had all piled up on me and I just couldn't get away from all of those emotions… I felt as though no one in the world understood what I was going through and I was selfish enough to run away and do that to myself…"

"You were selfish," Scarlet said, opening her eyes again and looking at me harshly. "Do you realise how much damage you did to this family? I knew where you would have gone when we came home and found that you weren't inside so I told Dad where you went. He went out and found you… When he brought you back home and I saw you… I was so angry, Arthur… Not just at you but at everything! Mum tried her best to keep everything normal, but we clashed so much and Dad just refused to talk to anyone…"

"I know it might not mean that much but I really am sorry…" I muttered. "And I hope that in time you can come to forgive me… This is a second chance and I really aim to redeem myself…"

"You've got a lot of work to do," Scarlet said, standing up. "So I hope you're up to it."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

After I had had a shower and put on the concealer and put my contact lenses back in, I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom and took in my appearance again. I was slowly getting used to being back in my old life again – it was nice knowing that I was actually wanted still. When you're a killer (survival needs or not), it's not that often that a family would accept you back into their home.

Shaking my head, I went over to my bedroom window and opened the blinds – looking out at the street as my room was right at the front of the house. It was almost ironic that my bedroom was one of the most visible in the house and I had to be kept a secret. I looked outside and watched as our neighbour waved at my mother as she let a nurse into the house. His name was Antonio and he was 19, nearly 20, like Scarlet and he had such a sad life that he was one of the people that indivertibly made me feel pathetic for killing myself.

Antonio Carriedo's parents had died in a car crash when he was a year old – they had been hit at the level crossing when the signs and fences had stopped working. He was being babysat at the time so was far away from the accident… But he was an orphan with no family and no chances… So, Father Vargas took him in to the church. He raised him as his own with his own children, Lovina and Feliciana, when they were born. But he didn't want to seem like he was mooching off of them when he got to eighteen so moved out of their house and into the house across the street from me with his girlfriend, Bella Martens (a girl who had moved to the village from Belgium). Everything was going fine for them, they were really sweet together and always waved and said hello to me when I was making my way to school. They had been together since they were 14/13 years old… But then one evening their house was broken into whilst Antonio was at work… I remember that I was walking home from Amelia's house as she was bedridden and seeing these guys charging up the street. They shoved me aside into the road and I narrowly escaped being hit by a car. Not concerned with them I continued down the street and saw their door wide open…

I found her at the bottom of the stairs, beaten black and blue. I called an ambulance and shouted over at my house for my parents… I woke up half the street screaming… and when Antonio was called home… Oh, he was broken when he saw the ambulance and Bella in the back… She died before they pulled away from the house…

He never moved out of that house though. He's been there alone ever since and kept a smile on his face. Lovina constantly went to see him to make sure he was okay… I wasn't sure if she still did or if I would get the chance to see what she looked like now… But there he was, smiling as usual and waving before going back into his house and shutting himself away…

Turning around when I heard my mother call out my name, I made my way to the door and down the stairs. I walked into the living room and looked inside, smiling a little as I saw another friendly face looking at me with a smile. Elizabeta Héderváry was sat in the arm chair with a cup of tea in front of her, but she was different from the last time I had saw her – her long brown hair was tied back into a pony tail and she was wearing a nurses uniform. She was a few months older than Antonio and Scarlet, meaning she was already 20 years old.

"Hey Arthur," she smiled. Mum motioned for me to come into the room, so I did so. Keeping my eyes on the Hungarian girl, I couldn't help but look between her, my mother and father in confusion – trying to ask silently what the hell was going on.

"Elizabeta is the new PDS nurse for the area," Mum explained as I took the seat beside her on the sofa.

"I've been specifically trained to deal with cases like yours," Elizabeta added.

"There are more people like me in the village?" I questioned.

"I'm… not allowed to say," Elizabeta replied, looking awkward for a moment. She regained herself quickly though and put a case onto the table, opening it and pulling out the same tool that the doctor's used on me at the clinic. "I've been told that I have to teach you how to administer this medication into Arthur's system and give you all the pamphlets on the possible hotlines."

"Okay…" Mum said.

"How long have you been doing this?" I asked.

"I had 2 weeks of training and I've been doing this a week," replied Elizabeta, preparing the tool that would be stuck in me… "Okay, so basically, you put this pot of liquid onto this part of the needle as such and then the actual needle gets put into a hole at the back of Arthur's neck. You pull the trigger like a gun and the medication goes in." She demonstrated as she instructed, moving behind me and showing my parents where the needle had to go before administering my medication for that day. I groaned and closed my eyes tight as the flashbacks shot through my mind again, hissing slightly until the pain subsided.

"How often we have to administer the medication?" asked Dad.

"Once every day," Elizabeta said, packing up her stuff. She left some leaflets on the table and smiled. "Well, thank you for the tea. I'll be by whenever you need me or if any information you need to know about from the clinics comes by, okay?"

"Thanks Elizabeta," I said, watching as Mum walked her out of the house.

I looked up as Scarlet came into the room, dressed completely in her HVF uniform. She folded her arms and looked at me with the same distrust as she did earlier, but she was closer to me than before so we were slowly making progress.

"So, you're the way you are because of some medication?" she asked. I nodded. "What happens if you don't take it anymore?"

"I assume I go rabid…" I replied, rubbing my neck awkwardly. "I don't want to though…"

"Then I'll make sure you get the meds then if they forget," Scarlet nodded, walking over to the cabinet in the middle of the room. She opened it and pulled out a small pistol from the draw which I eyed nervously before she hooked it into a pouch on her belt. "I'm going out on patrol. Don't wait up."

"Scarlet…" Dad started to protest, but Scarlet stuck her hand up and walked out before anyone could stop her. Sighing heavily, Dad rubbed his temples and left the room himself – I knew he was probably going to go to the den but I didn't know whether he would want me to go with him.

So I went back up to my bedroom and shut myself inside.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Not being allowed to leave the house was a blessing and curse blended into one. As much as it was peaceful to just be able to sit around in my bedroom and play with my computer or read, it was annoying that that was the only thing that I was able to do at the moment. One of the rules that I had to follow to help my integration was to remain inside for a week so that my medication could settle and I could begin to feel normal again.

With little other options, I stuck in some headphones and went onto the website that Francis had given me. Typing in the code, I hit the enter button and watched as the window turned dark and a video started to play. A figure wearing a skeleton mask was staring at me through the screen, it was obviously pre-recorded but I couldn't help but feel like he was watching me…

"I am the Undead Prophet," they said, their voice altered. "And it is time for we Undead beings to stand together and rise up against the oppressive nature of the living. They give us this medication but do they really want us back in their society? No! They want nothing more to do with us than to kill us and bury us once more! I say no more! They give us concealer and contact lenses to disguise us from the rest of the world, to help us blend in with the living yet they tell us that we only suffer from some disease! How is it fair that we are treated in such a manor?! YOU DON'T SEE OTHER DISEASES BEING COVERED UP SO WHY SHOULD WE BE SUBJECTED TO IT! WE MUST REVOLT AGAINST THE LIVING! WALK PROUD IN OUR SKIN AND SHOW THEM WE ARE NOT AS BAD AS THEY ARE."

I looked through the rest of the website and read about all these theories (regular and conspiracy) that this 'Undead Prophet' was coming up with and they were downright scary. This man was talking about such things that would lead to many people dying… He was nothing more than an Internet troll and I didn't trust him for a moment, but it was easy to influence anyone over the Internet so it was only a matter of time before something happened…

By the time I had finished looking through the entire website, the sky had turned dark outside and the village was becoming quiet. I was about to head downstairs to go see what my parents were doing when I heard the front door burst open then slam shut, frantic footsteps rushing around downstairs.

"They know he's here!" came Scarlet's voice from the kitchen.

"What?" exclaimed Mum, the sound of a wooden chair scrapping on the floor reaching my ears.

"The HVF! They know there is a Rotter on this street!" Scarlet shouted, ignoring my parents complaints to the word 'rotter'. "They're coming for him, for fuck's sake!"

"Go hide him in his wardrobe," Dad said. "Scarlet. You guard him. We'll man down here. They are not taking my son…"

I stood at the top of the stairs in total shock, my heart beating a mile a minute in my chest. Scarlet looked up at me as she ran upstairs, grabbing my hand and dragging me back into my room before shoving me into the wardrobe. She shut the door then left the room, slamming it after her to man the top of the stairs.

I closed my eyes and listened to the noises outside and inside the house – I could hear the cocking of guns downstairs and even a chainsaw being revved near the back of the house. But nothing could compare to the sound of my heart pumping blood heavily through my body, the feeling causing my ears to ring. Then I heard the cars pull up outside, the slamming of doors and footsteps as someone walked over to the house.

Then the doorbell rang. I stayed as still and quiet as I could, listening as the door was slowly opened.

"Hello, Mrs Kirkland," came the voice of Father Vargas. "Is Scarlet home? She's needed to witness an event."

"Oh, uh, yes, hold on one moment," replied Mum. She moved to the stairs and called up. "Scarlet? Come down a moment, Father Vargas wants to talk to you!"

"Actually, it's George that wants her out here," corrected Father Vargas. Scarlet went downstairs, so I silently snuck out of the wardrobe and went over to the window. I peeked through the blinds and watched as Scarlet walked up the drive and stayed by the gate. The front door of Antonio's house was wide open, the HVF (a mixture of 7 people including Scarlet and George) and Father Vargas were stood outside. An 8th member of the group suddenly burst out of the house, dragging a woman out by the hair. Blonde hair.

I watched as Bella Martens was thrown to the ground in the middle of the road, guns pointed at her as she sobbed and screamed for Antonio. However, the Spaniard was being held back by another member of the HVF, trying his hardest to break free to get to her.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" he shouted.

"Antonio!" sobbed Bella, reaching out to him only to have her hand kicked hard by George Jones. She screamed and held her wrist, which I assumed had broken, and looked up at him with fear in her green eyes.

"Take out those lenses," spat George, looking at her in contempt.

"SHE'S NOT WEARING ANY!" shouted Antonio.

"Funny, she's been dead a long time," George said, turning on him. "Eyes deteriorate too."

"She's…"

"Don't even bother telling that she's not dead," George snapped. "I went to her fucking funeral, you stupid son of a bitch. I thought you would have enough sense not to harbour a Rotter, Antonio! You come to all of the parish meetings!"

"Because of Father Vargas!" Antonio said desperately. "Please! Please don't hurt her!" He looked over at Father Vargas pleadingly. "PLEASE! PLEASE, ROMULUS! PLEASE DON'T LET HIM HURT HER! PLEASE!"

I watched in horror as Father Vargas turned his back on Antonio, my eyes shifting to Bella and George as the American pointed the double barrel of his gun at her head and shot her point blank, the loudness of the gunshot making me jump.

I moved away from the window and fell down onto my bed, the sounds of Antonio's shouts and cries echoing through me almost as much as the gun. I heard them get into their cars and drive away, Antonio still sobbing in the street as our front door opened and shut again. I looked round as my bedroom door opened, watching as Scarlet looked in on me.

"Are you okay?" I asked her. She nodded. "Why are you with those people…?"

"I… I don't know anymore…" she replied.

_**Notes:**_

**Long time coming but here is the second chapter! I hope that you guys will keep on reading this series cos it's only gonna get better from this point onwards!**

**Anyways, I love you all lots for putting up with me and will see you next time!**


	3. Unfair Funfair

**Rotters**

**Chapter Three**

**Unfair Funfair**

A month had passed since the incident with Antonio and Bella, yet my family never spoke of how close we had come to being in that very same position. I constantly looked out of the window through the blinds, truthfully terrified that George would come to our house and point that big gun at my head. I really didn't want to meet the same second end as Bella did – but the real reason that I kept looking outside was because I was really worried about Antonio…

His smile was gone. And it really did take a lot for that to happen to him. Antonio had always had what the villagers called an infectious happiness, all he had to do was smile and everyone around him would end up smiling too. But his smile was no longer there – every day I saw him leave the house to go to work, his expression numb and his eyes locked on the floor; but never on the spot where Bella's blood had been spilt. He would be in the same position as he walked back into his house later in the day, his door shutting him away from the world. No lights were on inside his home, not a single flicker of a TV or a lamp.

For the most part of my days since that evening, I had been kept in my bedroom. There was no need for me to eat or drink, so Mum and Dad said that it was important that I stayed in my room just in case someone on the outside saw me moving through the living room window. It was the most boring thing in the world and I felt as though I was a prisoner in my own home – what life was this for me, really? It was almost as bad as it was at the clinic, but at least there they could administer my medication in one hit without jabbing me with the needle first…

I was really starting to get annoyed with my parents – I knew that I shouldn't have been, but it was just so damn frustrating getting treated as though I would get killed at any second. I knew now that I wasn't the only 'rotter' in the village, and it scared me to think that she had once come back like I had… Rabid, hungry, bloodthirsty… I couldn't really begin to think about how Bella had looked untreated – her hair, usually thick and straight, would have been limp and dirty; her skin would have been decaying and disgusting; her eyes sunken and grey like mine…

There was actually sunshine coming down from the sky for the first time since I had been allowed home, a rarity for my village. It usually rained a lot and the roads would flood as the river broke its banks for the umpteenth time.

I laid on my bed numbly, letting my hand dangle over the edge so the warm sunlight could touch my skin. I longed to be able to go outside and feel the fresh air and the sunshine warming me like the days before I had died. I wondered whether if it would feel the same or different, knowing that the answer would probably be different… Nothing had been the same since I had returned home, and nothing was really going as the doctors and nurses had told me it would. I hated them. They had sent me back to a village where I wasn't safe because I felt unready – felt being the true reason I was ready. Feeling things meant that my brain was now back to being able to juggle emotions – though it wasn't really that good when I had been alive the first time. They didn't seem to understand that now I was dealing with the same crippling loneliness I had to deal with the first time around, doubled with the soul tearing fear that at any moment I could be shot dead because of a condition that I never asked me.

I never asked to be brought back from the dead, and I never asked to be brought back to the village. All I wanted was to just be normal, that was all I ever wanted, but no one (not even my parents) was capable of beginning to comprehend how it felt to feel so alienated again. I'd go as far to call this racism but we weren't really a different race, were we? It wasn't a disability. It wasn't really a disease. There was no classification for the discrimination against people like me. Racism, sexism, ageism… there were so many different forms of discrimination but nothing that could apply to me. We were the plague on the existence of man though we were, in our non-rabid state, often more placid and friendly than most humans. Discrimination is fed on the fears of those with minds narrow enough to not even try to find out more about something that they do not know about – and the people of my village were definitely afraid of my kind.

Glancing at my clock, I saw that it was nearly noon and remembered waking up to the sound of the front door opening – the signs that my parents had gone about their daily business as usual. Both of them were in work full time – Mum worked in the local travel agents, guiding people to affordable holidays so that they could escape our normally dreary weather, and Dad was a bank manager. They'd given me my medication whilst I was asleep as it was easier that way, and I could tell from the stinging in my neck… I could hear the tell-tell noises of my sister in her bedroom – loud music and the sounds of gunshots on her TV.

Scarlet had closed herself off since that evening, probably because she had started to grow attached to me again. I think it scared her how protecting me had come so easily to her despite her own prejudices against 'rotters'. And after watching George kill Bella so cold bloodedly, I think she was starting to question if she could really trust everything she had been taught about 'rotters' from him. So she had shut herself away in her room for the majority of the time, only leaving for food and drink and the chances to go outside and get some fresh air. The gunshots were definitely one of those first person shooter games I had seen her come in with one day – a few zombie hunting games too which added a pinch of salt to my wounds. The noises were that loud that she wouldn't notice if I snuck out for an hour or two and I really needed out of the place.

Getting up from my bed, I went to my wardrobe and got out an old dark grey hoody. Putting the hood up so it shrouded my face, I snuck downstairs as quickly and quietly as I could and out the back door. I took in a deep breath as shut the door behind me, sighing softly at the feeling of the cool air. It was still fresh outside despite the sunshine, which was good because it meant that my concealer wouldn't get messed up if I were to sweat too much.

I didn't really know where I was going when I first started to walk through the streets – I really just wanted to see how much had changed in the time I had been gone. I could see people walking around so kept my hoody covering my face to make sure that they didn't see my face and sped up as I passed them. It was only when I got to the church that I knew exactly where it was that I wanted to go.

Making sure that I wasn't seen by Father Vargas, I snuck around past the church and up the hill behind it until I reached an iron gate. It was large and frightening, but it had a chain around it with a broken padlock. Unhooking the chain, I pulled the gate open, cringing as the rusted hinges creaked far too loudly for my liking. Walking inside, I looked around at all the tombstones before me and the empty graves in front of them. I had entered the graveyard, the graveyard where I had been laid to rest.

Weaving through the headstones, I looked at each one trying to find my name. I remember what my one looked like from the memories, but it wasn't an entirely clear image. Finally, I reached it and crouched down beside the gaping hole I had been left in. The tombstone was a shiny black granite with a gold boarder and gold text.

_Here lies Arthur James Kirkland._

_Born November 5__th__ 1994._

_Died October 9__th__ 2011._

"_When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry." – William Shakespare._

I ran my hand softly over the stone, tracing my fingers over the gold lettering that had been chosen so carefully by my parents – they knew that I loved Shakespeare, so to find a quote from him for our own lives was touching. But then I looked down into the hole and saw the broken wood of my coffin and began to question why they had gone against my wishes…

Before I could get too deep into my thoughts, I heard the gate creak again. My body tensed, listening carefully as footsteps started to get closer so I dunked behind my tombstone and kept myself as small as possible to make sure this person didn't see me. I didn't get who would want to come to a place that had been the source of the village's zombie crisis, but they clearly didn't care for where they had decided to walk.

"Uh, hello?" came a voice, I recognised yet didn't. It was definitely a girl's voice. It was off though, like the memory had been scrambled up but I kept ducked down in hopes that she would just wander off and think she'd seen something. But I heard her getting closer… "Dude, hello? I can see you behind the tombstone!"

Sighing, I got up quickly and started to run away from her – if she was someone human then she would likely recognise me and turn me in. That was the last thing I wanted. However, I heard her shout and start to chase me. I tripped and hit the grass, groaning as I heard the girl laugh as she came to a stop behind me.

"Dude, you are totally clumsy," she chuckled. I turned over and looked up at her, my hood slipping from my head. For a moment, time stopped. We stared at each other – green eyes locking on blue. I was stunned; her hair was blonde and wavy, her eyes strikingly blue, her skin paler than before but still beautiful. Amelia Jones looked down at me in disbelief, and I returned her gaze with one of guilt. "A-Arthur…?"

"Amelia…" I muttered, sitting up on the grass. I blinked as she dropped to her knees and hugged me tightly, her arms wrapping suddenly around my neck. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her back.

She pulled back and looked at me, taking in all of my appearance before she realised. "You died…?" she asked. "You died before the uprising?"

I nodded. "You didn't know?" I uttered. "Your parents never told you?"

She shook her head. "They only barely told me about Alfred…" said Amelia. "I asked what you were up to and they told me that… that you'd moved on to a different place…"

"Not quite moved on…" I said, chuckling awkwardly.

"How did you die?" she asked.

"I… I'd rather not say just yet…" I replied. She nodded and got to her feet, allowing me to stand up too. I was gobsmacked, totally taken off guard by her sudden appearance. I really had not expected to see her again…

"That was your grave you were hiding behind, wasn't it?" Amelia asked, starting to walk back over to it before I could stop her. I followed, watching as she knelt down beside my tombstone and read the writing chosen by my family. "October 9th… That was the same day as my funeral… Mom told me…"

"Amelia… I'll explain later…" I promised, turning her to look her in the eyes. "Let's get out of here so we can talk better. Anyone could show up…"

"You're kidding right," Amelia said, looking up at me and smiling a little. "Let's go have fun. You look like you've not seen daylight in while! Let's go to that funfair on the pier we always used to go and just hang out for a bit before get into the deep shit! Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I questioned her motives, but I followed her out of the graveyard and walked all the way to the funfair with her – my hood up once more despite the fact that she was walking around as though she hadn't died of cancer 2 years ago. She looked around with a smile on her face at all the old rides that we used to go on, urging me to join her on roughly 3 rides before I had had enough of getting dizzy. She called me a spoil sport but smiled at me and went to get onto another ride, leaving me by the fencing to watch – unaware as I watched her twirling around on the ride that my hood had fallen down.

"Arthur?" I blinked and looked round to see a big guy I recognised from college, Ivan, staring at me. "Arthur Kirkland… I went to his funeral! I WENT TO THAT GUYS FUNERAL! ROTTER! ROTTER IN THE PARK!"

Within seconds, people turned on me. I knew that Amelia was safe on the ride for the time being so ran, glancing back at the hoard of people who had started to chase me away like I was about to murder them on their day out. I never stopped running until I reached the sanctuary of my home and the stern glares of my parents and sister…

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I was sent back up to my room and grounded for leaving the house the way I did and for worrying my parents – though it wasn't really as strict as it could have been. They never shouted, they just looked sad…

I sighed as I laid on my bed, my eyes scanning across the ceiling for the 100th time that month. I was back to point zero, but now I knew that Amelia was out there I just wanted all the more to get out of that room and go to her.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. I could hear my parents scuffle about to try and conceal any sign of my existence, before opening the front door. I could hear a muttering before the door was closed and my mother called up the stairs to say someone was coming up. I blinked and looked round at my door, watching it open slowly until Amelia was revealed.

"I turned round and you were gone…" she muttered, rubbing her awkwardly.

"Didn't you hear the screams of 'rotter in the park' and the angry mob which chased me off?" I questioned. She shook her head. "Well… I'm thinking public life for us isn't going to be easy…"

"Are you going to tell me about what happened to you?" she asked, sitting down on my bed with me. I sat up properly and looked at her before looking at my lap guiltily. Being near her now and knowing how we both died… I felt pathetic. "Arthur?"

Taking a deep breath, I pulled up the sleeves of hoody and revealed the stitched up scars on my wrists. She gasped and took hold of my arm to get a closer look, looking up at me in incredulity. "I was so lonely…" I explained. "Alfred had left… You were so ill… Then you died… You were gone and I had no one… I felt like no one would understand and I was suffocating… On the night of your funeral… I gave up hope… I left, took a knife from home and went to the cave… I sat under the writing you'd left and cut… I bled out in that cave… I feel so pathetic for doing something like that when you… you were so brave with… God… I am so sorry…"

I was more than surprised when I felt her arms wrap around my neck again, but held her close and pressed my face to her shoulder.

"Don't say sorry," she muttered. "I left you alone. Cancer took me away from you…"

"I missed you so much…" I said, feeling tears in my eyes. "I couldn't take you being gone… I… loved you so much… and never said anything… then lost the chance to do so…"

"Well, you found a chance then," she said, chuckling softly as she ran her fingers though my hair. I chuckled too and sniffed; glad she wasn't mad at me.

We jumped though when we heard the front door slam downstairs, getting up quickly and hurrying downstairs when shouting started between Mum and Scarlet. I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched, Amelia standing back just in case.

"ARTHUR HAS THE RIGHT TO KNOW!" Scarlet shouted, looking round when she saw me.

"Know what?" I asked.

"DON'T YOU DARE, SCARLET."

"I got kicked out of the HVF by George because I've been harbouring a 'rotter'," Scarlet explained, ignoring Mum. "Which is so fucking hypocritical because his fucking son is back!"

Silence rang through the house.

"His son…" I whispered.

"Alfred Jones came back to the village yesterday," Scarlet said, glancing harshly at Mum who looked like she was sucking lemons. "George Jones' son came back to the village covered in scars from being blown up. He has the cheek to say I've been harbouring a rotter when his fucking son is one too! And he's taken him for a fucking reunion drink at the Son and Arms with the rest of the HVF!"

I looked back at Amelia who returned my look of total shock. I said nothing as I turned around totally and left the house with her against the shouts of my parents.

Alfred was back and we needed to talk.

_**Notes:**_

**I'm losing all thought of what to put in these…**

**So uh.**

**Stay cool my friends and look out for another update soon. My work hours have changed to I have the morning shift rather than the afternoon – so writing at the weekend is a lot easier :D**


	4. The Return of the Fallen Hero

**Rotters**

**Chapter Four**

**The Return of the Fallen Hero**

Amelia could barely keep up with me as I stomped down the street – I was absolutely livid that my parents would try to keep that kind of information away from me. Alfred had been my best friend for years, apart from Amelia he was the only person that I could really talk to in that goddamned village. He was the one that I had gone too when I realised I had started to develop feelings towards Amelia, ones that I was terrified of ever telling her in case it fucked up friendship.

I had so many thoughts going through my head as I walked, every last one of them boiling up the anger inside me. I was angry at all of them; at my parents, at the village, at George, even at Alfred. I was so pissed off with Alfred, I couldn't even comprehend it – he had abandoned us, just walked away from Amelia and I and left the goddamned country to fight in some pointless war just to prove to his father that he was a son worthy of praise, worthy of being loved by his father. He was so obsessed with being perfect in his father's eyes that he had gone and got himself blown up!

I really had no idea what I would do when I came face to face with him again, whether Amelia would end up having to hold me back if I tried to punch him in his stupid face… or if I would just be so relieved to see him again that nothing would really matter anymore. I glanced back at Amelia for a moment, sighing a little and coming to a stop. I wasn't being very fair on her, storming off into the night like that – she looked nervous and worried, her arms wrapped around herself to keep the cardigan she was wearing wrapped tightly around her as the night air grew ever colder.

"What's the matter, Arthur?" she asked me, halting at my side and looking up at me. I said nothing and simply wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I didn't really know what I wanted to say to her in that moment – she had lost her cousin and hadn't known about it and now suddenly he was back and walking around half-dead like we were. She hadn't known I was alive like this until today and now her cousin… If I were in her shoes I would feel so incredibly overwhelmed but she was still walking, still upright and calm and seeming to be more concerned over my behaviour than her own wellbeing. "Arthur, you're scaring me…"

"I'm so sorry," I said for the umpteenth that evening. I didn't really understand why I felt the need to continually apologize to her – maybe it was the constant guilt of my weakness after her death.

"Don't be stupid," Amelia replied, looking up at me. "I get that you're upset; I am too. But we have to keep calm and try not to freak everyone out in that pub or they will kill us point blank without giving us the chance at talking to Alfred."

"Do you really think your uncle would try to kill you?" I muttered. It was a stupid question after what I had witnessed in the past, but I had to ask.

"Yes…" she responded quickly and sadly. I was disgusted, not with her, by the answer as I knew full well that George Jones really would kill his younger brother's daughter. "I heard about what happened with Bella and Antonio. I know what my uncle is capable of, and I am seriously scared about what he could do to Alfred at any moment…"

"Me too," I said, looking off into the direction of the pub. "Let's keep going then."

This time I slowed my pace and kept my arm around her, not letting her go for fear I might lose her again. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could because I knew more than anyone that it could all be taken away in an instant.

It took us another 20 minutes to be able to reach the pub, and as I stood with Amelia under the lights of the sign I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed but the situation. I had never really been welcome around areas like that – masculine areas where the men were 'real' men that drank ale and carried the tools of their trades. Huntsmen who had just come back from collecting game in the forest, their guns still loaded and the barrels still hot from shots. The fathers of the boys at school who would pick on me for being smaller than them, not interested in sports that much, for liking arts and music and writing more than science and maths. The name of the pub was The Son and Arms – a clue in the title about what type of people you would find in there. It was a fitting setting for Alfred and George, really. If he were alive completely then it would have been perfect.

Amelia held my hand, her fingers curling around mine perfectly and drawing my attention away from the sign. She had a soft smile on her face, her hand squeezing mine gently and reassuringly – in reality it was as if she and I had never been parted, everything was continuing as before except with the obvious changes. I kissed her temple and smiled back, glancing back at the sign and taking in a deep breath. With that, we stepped forwards and I pressed my hands to the solid wood of the pubs front door and pushed it open.

It was bright inside and I could hear the laughter of many people – mainly the HVF drank there I had come to learn from Scarlet, so we were really walking into the lion's den. They all could do more harm to me and Amelia at any moment than we could do to them, and that was truly the sickening part of all of this – the monsters were more afraid of the living. I kept hold of Amelia's hand as we walked deeper inside, turning a corner and entering the centre of the pub.

The noise stopped as soon as we got seen by the first person, Amelia looking them dead in the eyes in defence. I squeezed her hand again, walking right over to the bar and taking a look around the room. George Jones was staring at us in disgust, his hands gripping at the table as though he were ready to jump out of his seat at any moment; Lovina and Feliciana Vargas were sat at a table nearby them with Ludwig Beilschmidt, Father Vargas' aid and Feliciana's boyfriend; Father Vargas himself was sat at a far table away from everyone working on some readings, only looking up when he realised the noise had stopped; Ludwig's older brother, Gilbert, was sat with other HVF members, his hands gripped around his tankard and glaring at us in curiosity with Ivan Braginski who was with us coldly. But nowhere in the room could see any sign of Alfred.

"No fucking rotters are allowed in this pub!" spat George, finally getting out of his seat and pointing at us. "NO FILTHY ROTTERS-"

"Uncle George, it's me…" said Amelia, stepping forwards a little and looking at her George with genuine surprise. In all honesty, I was shocked he would actually treat his neice that way, but then again, who was more of a monster? The zombie or the man? "It's me, Amelia…"

"Ben is a dead man when I next see him," replied George. "Harbouring a rotter…"

"Excuse me, but isn't your son back?" I said, stepping in. I moved myself in front of Amelia just in case he started getting violent. "Your son who was blown up in Afghanistan?"

"Alfred is back…" George said, sighing and sitting down. Clearly the reminder that his son was in the building was a good move. Ludwig then got out of his seat and moved over to us, his expression awkward as he glanced back at Feliciana and Lovina; the older sister trying to keep the younger looking in the direction her boyfriend had walked.

"Hey, Ludwig," Amelia said, looking up at him. "Long time no see."

"No… PDS… sufferers are allowed in the main room of the pub," Ludwig said. "If you're staying you have to order something and then move onto the area allocated at the back of the pub." He motioned behind him, right at the sign for the hallway of the bathrooms. Classy.

"We don't eat or drink…" Amelia said, glancing around him when she heard Feliciana say her name. She smiled and waved to her old friend, the three girls looking at one another (even Lovina seemed to be warming up to the idea of having us back).

"Why do they have to stay in the back?" asked Feliciana.

"Because they do," snapped George.

"If you don't order something then I'm afraid you can't stay here," said the landlady, giving us a stern expression. I sighed and gave her some money.

"The cheapest drink you have," I said, getting handed two glasses of lemonade and my change. Escorted reluctantly by Ludwig, Amelia and I headed to the back of the pub and out into the dark dingy hallway. It smelt of urine and other matter that I didn't really want to be touching. I sent Ludwig a look that said how disgusted I was with them for treating us like that – we had gone to school together, we all had. We may have been in different year groups but that didn't matter in a village this small…

"Why are you doing this?" asked Amelia, setting her glass down on the small table that had been set up out there for our kind. "Why are you keeping us away when we are not going to hurt you. We don't feel hunger or thirst… We just are… We're the same as we are before…"

"I know…" Ludwig sighed, leaning on the doorframe for a moment. He gave us a truly sorry look. "George and Romulus have been on bad terms lately… Romulus truly wants to give you all a chance but he know that the people of the village listen to George because of all he did for us during the uprising… You have no idea how terrifying that time was… I mean no disrespect by that it just was… So, Romulus keeps his sermons as neutral as possible but knows that George wants more anti-PDS stuff… So he adds little snippets of that too… And as for the pub… It's the main HQ for the HVF… it has meaning for George… The Son and Arms… So when the landlady said she was allowing PDS sufferers, he threatened to take away half her business… Hence why you're allowed in but have to stay out here… I'm really sorry…"

"Your brother didn't seem as though he wanted to bludgeon us like Ivan did," I commented. Ludwig shook his head.

"Since Scarlet was discharged for keeping you a secret… since he knew you were back," Ludwig tried to explain. "He's been questioning the ways of the HVF a lot more. He didn't think it was fair about Scarlet. And he definitely knows something's fishy with George and Alfred… Ivan just doesn't care… He has his older and younger sisters to think of… and Maddy…"

"Maddy…" Amelia sighed. Our friend, Madeline Williams, was another survivor of the uprising – a living survivor. She and Ivan had been together for a couple of years, at least one year before the uprising.

Behind us there was a sudden noise of a door opening, causing the three of us to look round to the end of the corridor. That's when my heart sped up slightly and my hands balled into fists – at the end of the corridor exiting the men's toilets was a tall blonde boy with blue eyes and glasses. He was pale like me, and had a scar just left of his nose that spread across his cheek the split like a fork in the road, one trail leading up above his ear into his hair line the other going bellow it to his neck. He was still wearing his military issued shirt, trousers and boots, and he was a lot larger than I remembered him… but there he was… Alfred F Jones…

"Alfred…" breathed Amelia, looking up at her cousin with wide bright eyes. He looked back at us both in surprise for a moment before a grin spread over his face and he walked forwards.

"Amie! Arthur!" he said, his voice slightly deeper than before. "Oh God… I can't believe it!" He wrapped his arms around Amelia as she ran forwards and hugged him, one arm shifting to hold the back of her head. He glanced over her shoulder at me, smiling a little as he took in my mixture of emotions. "Arthur…"

"Welcome back…" I said, not really knowing what else to say to him. Amelia let him go and gently shoved him in my direction. Taking the hint, Alfred moved over to me and gave me a hug too – and I'd be damned if I ever said that I wasn't relieved to see him again. My best friend was back.

"What are you two doing out here?" he asked, looking over at Ludwig. "You didn't shove them out here did you?"

Ludwig sighed. "No," he replied. "I lead them here but it was the rules of the pub the PDS sufferers are sent out here."

"Well, I want them out in the main bar with me," Alfred replied, walking past Ludwig. We followed after him, Amelia grabbing my hand again to keep us together. I ran my thumb over her skin, not letting her go as we took a seat with Alfred at a table away from his father and the other members of the HVF. George kept his eyes on us the entire time, watching his son too as if we were going to turn him at any moment. Alfred picked up the glass that he had apparently at the table before going to the bathroom, downing the alcohol inside and wincing slightly.

"You do realise that regular food and drink are poisonous to us, right?" Amelia sighed, watching her cousin carefully. "From the looks of you, you've recently puked…"

"It's only toxic to rotters," Alfred retorted, looking us both up and down. I blinked – did he really just say that? He was in denial…

"Really?" blinked Amelia, clearly as surprised as I was. "So when do the stitches in that scar come out, Al? Cos you see, I don't think they ever will. And why is that do you think?"

"Fuck off, Amelia," replied Alfred, turning his attention to me. "My Dad said you killed yourself…"

"And if I did?" I responded. I didn't like his tone at all, and the way he spoke to us both was as if he… I really didn't want to think about it – especially what George could have said about me.

"I want to know what happened," he pressed, sitting forward in his seat. "I hear about Amelia dying then you kill yourself… We died in the same stretch of time. Don't act dumb."

"I slit my wrists in that cave we used to go to," I said, staring at Alfred. He blinked, his eyes shifting to Amelia's hand as it rested on my arm, the distance between us almost non-existent.

"What's going on between you two?" he asked.

"The beginnings of what you had with Lovina," I replied, glancing back at the older Italian girl who was sipping her glass of wine oblivious to our conversation. I blinked as Alfred's hands hit the table – he looked far from happy about that revelation but Amelia stayed close to me and I to her. Alfred and his weird behaviour weren't going to scare us apart.

Before he could say anymore though, the door of the pub burst open and Roderick (Ludwig and Gilbert's cousin, and Elizabeta's boyfriend) came inside. I didn't think of him as the type to be in HVF and he clearly didn't look like he enjoyed the work – but like I have mentioned before, the village was small and man power was limited. I watched as he panted harshly, his usually pristine appearance was tarnished with dirty and sweat.

"Jesus…"Gilbert cursed, getting out of his seat and walking over to his cousin. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"There are rotters in the village…" huffed Roderick. I glanced at Amelia. George got up too and walked over, rolling his eyes.

"We know there are rotters in the village," he said. "They're sat in this fucking pub."

"No!" snapped Roderick, standing up straight and wiping his forehead. "Rabid rotters… I was patrolling the woods like you asked and I saw them! A big man and a little girl out by the caves in the woods."

"Everyone, drop your drinks we're heading out!" George shouted. "Alfred, you're with me!"

"I want Arthur to come too," Alfred said, standing up. I blinked, watching as George huffed and nodded before running out. I looked at Amelia who looked confused and scared then back at Alfred. "Come on!"

"Alfred, what about Amelia!" I shouted.

"I'll make sure she gets home okay," said Father Vargas, walking over to us. I looked at him before nodding and allowing Alfred to drag me out into the night.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The car ride down to the woods was the most awkward experience I had ever had to endure – the silence was unbearable as I was in the back of George Jones' truck with Alfred. George refused to say anything in my presence and Alfred really didn't understand anything that was going on around us. I kept thinking about Amelia and how I shouldn't have left her alone – but I also knew that Father Vargas was a good man, and as much as he was a coward when the right people were around when they weren't he knew what to do to defend people. I could see it in his eyes, the honesty in his words when he said he would be sure she got home okay. I made a mental note to go see her in the morning.

When we got to the right part of the woods in the truck, George pulled up to a stop and got out to get his gun from the back. Alfred remained seated though, looking out of the window at his dad.

"We'll head out that way in a minute," he called to him. "I need a word with Arthur first."

"Right," grunted George. "Make sure that fucking pansy is ready."

I rolled my eyes and leant my head back against the back of the seat, staring out at the dark forest – anywhere but Alfred.

"Why did you kill yourself?" he asked me. I looked at him incredulously only to his expression was deadly serious. The military really had changed him. "Tell me now."

"Why the fuck do you think I killed myself?" I snapped. "You left us, Al… You fucking left and never said a word! When you went everything turned to shit! Amelia got weaker and weaker until eventually her body couldn't cope… You both left a giant hole in me and I couldn't take it! I just couldn't!"

"But killing yourself?!"

"YOU WOULDN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND! YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN POPULAR AND LOVED. YOU HAVE NO CLUE HOW I FELT. I FELT SO ABANDONED AND CONFUSED AND I SAW NO OTHER WAY OUT."

Alfred looked at me for a moment before sighing and looking at his lap. "I couldn't cope seeing Amelia in so much pain…" he confessed. "I never wanted to see her like that so I did the one thing that meant I could do some good in the world."

"You got yourself blown up in another country…"

"I got myself blown up protecting the people I loved," he said, getting out of the truck. I followed his lead and got out of my side, shutting the door and following him off into the woods in silence. We talked, yes, but only in short comments – we just couldn't seem to see eye to eye on anything at the moment, our friendship severed by his ignorance and my hurt. We couldn't see past what we had done.

I stopped and put my arm out for Alfred to stop, feeling him bump against it at the last moment. He looked down at me and I up at him, pressing my index finger to my lips to signal to him to be silent. I had heard something – I walked forwards and peered through the bushes, spotting what we had been looking for…

The man was tall, wearing a decrepit old suit, his skin dirty and decaying. The girl could only be around 5 years old, wearing a dirty pink frock. Both seemed as though they were going to the wedding of the Corpse Bride – I dreaded to think how they had died…

"Dad, we got them," Alfred whispered, and it was only now I realised he had a walkie-talkie with him. "We've got the rotters by the caves at the west side of the woods. Come on."

Reluctantly, I walked down towards them with Alfred, the American boy holding me back despite the fact we were totally safe near these people. We both had a subtle scent that signalled to other PDS sufferers (rabid or neutralised) we were dead. It wasn't anything a living human could pick up though. I looked at Alfred in surprise when I heard him load a gun, looking around as the others showed up and surrounded them from the ground and the tops of the cliffs. George was stood on one cliff pointing his gun down at the pair, Ivan on another doing the same whilst Gilbert made his way down towards them with Roderick. I watched in horror as Gilbert kicked out at the man, sending him toppling to the ground only to have the little girl grab hold of his leg and bite into his calf.

"AHHHHHHH!" he screamed, falling to the ground. From above, Ivan threw a net down which landed on top of the pair allowing Roderick to pull them back. "THEY BIT ME! THEY BIT ME!" screamed Gilbert, holding a gun to his temple. "I'M GONNA TURN! TELL MADDY I LOVE HER!"

"MY MADDY?!" exclaimed Ivan, glaring down at Gilbert.

"Yeah…"

"WILL YOU TWO CALM DOWN!" I shouted, walking closer. "You are not going to turn! The bite isn't what turns you! You can't turn! The dead rose and that was it! There is nothing in the bite that will turn you! I should know!"

Gilbert looked over at me, his gun lowering to the ground in surprise. "Really?"

"Really?"

"So I just…"

"You just said you love my girlfriend," Ivan snapped.

"WILL YOU TWO STOP FUCKING AROUND AND END THOSE ROTTTERS?" ordered George.

"You realise we could get £200 each for them at the clinic…" Gilbert said, holding the bleeding bite on his calf. "Maybe more because of the younger one."

"Da…" Ivan said, lowering his gun slightly. "That is… tempting…"

"WE ARE KILLING THEM," George bellowed. "ALFRED, YOU DO IT."

Alfred looked up at his father and nodded, taking the safety off of his gun and moving closer to the Rabids. I looked at him in disbelief as he aimed, running in front of his gun quickly.

"Alfred, no!" I said, looking around at the others. "Sell them. Just sell them. They can be normal again… They are likely a father and daughter… Could you really kill them? Really?"

"ALFRED STOP FUCKING AROUND."

"Alfred… That child is 5 years old… Look at her…" I pleaded. He did so.

"They're evil…" he whispered.

"If they are then so am I…" I replied, carefully taking out one of my contact lenses. He looked at me, right at my dead eye and closed his own. I sighed in relief as he lowered his gun, watching as the other HVF members who had been on the side lines rushed down to help collect the Rabids back to their van.

Alfred put his gun down and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at me. I could see the confusion and pain in his eyes, but none of it was directed at me – I could tell he was starting to question who he was.

_**Notes:**_

**2 more chapters to go! Oh it's about to get dark my friends :D**

**Please review! I don't bite… It's a bit disheartening to hear nothing from you guys when the stats thing says you're out there… :( Love you all anyways XD**


	5. Pride and Prejudice

**Rotters**

**Chapter Five**

**Pride and Prejudice**

Lights were flashing above me, flicking like Christmas lights – but the smell in the air was rotten and delicious. I could smell the blood slipping across the floor and intoxicating me like nothing had ever done before. I looked around me. There were others in the building, but they were all focused on the meal on the other side of the room. I wasn't interested in such a small morsel; there were going to be plenty of people coming soon – or even just the one.

It was the middle of the night – the time when the bravest of the humans would try to venture out to get food and supplies. I had been watching them take it in turns, those brave little people in their military uniforms. They weren't real officers or soldiers. I knew that much though I didn't really know what they were. They were just people volunteering in the time of crisis – the people that thought they were doing the right thing by putting their lives at risk for others.

Morons.

I'd picked up on their habits in recent days – they would always pick someone different every day to come and get supplies. It seemed as though they thought of us as truly mindless – but just because we were the walking dead didn't mean that we couldn't think and realised what was going on. It was the reason why people had to remain quiet near us – if we heard you then we knew that you were there. Even in a house, if we saw a light on that meant there was life inside.

Amelia walked up to me, wearing that peculiar dress. I don't know how I knew it was her – she was slightly more rotten than I was, barely recognisable behind the blood and decay – but somehow I knew. She sniffed and grunted, looking around to a source of food that I hadn't noticed before. Following her, we began our feast.

But that was when the girl came. Her on that trolley, her with her loudness and the crashing. Her groaning as she clutched at her leg in pain. She looked at us in fear and I was the first to get to her as she screamed. I could remember her face so vividly – long brown hair tied into pigtails by red ribbons, the military uniform, dark skin, dark eyes. She was familiar and she seemed to recognise me too. But all she could do was scream when we started to rip into her skin, through muscle and bones all over her body until I managed to get through her skull into her brain…

Then I heard the click behind me, the cocking of a gun. I slowly stopped eating and turned, my dead eyes locking onto the person who had so stupid revealed themselves to us. But I didn't move – she was wearing a uniform similar to the girl on the floor, but her face was filled with a torn fear and her face incredibly pale compared to the deep redness of her hair…

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I gasped awake again and sat up straight in my bed, panting and clutching at my chest. I knew the whole story now. I glanced to my left and saw her sat there again, Scarlet, watching me with narrowed eyes.

"You were there…" I muttered. "You were in the shop that night…"

"What night?" asked Scarlet, glancing at the door edgily. We were both in trouble with Mum and Dad for our behaviour the night before – her for telling me the forbidden secret about Alfred and me for running off into the night and not returning until 2am.

"Who was that girl… I know her… I know I know her…" I stuttered, gripping my fingers into my hair. "I know her… Who is she?"

Scarlet sighed softly and gave me a gentle look. "Look, Arthur… I kept this because… I knew you'd need to know… you've probably seen them on the boards around the village…" she said, pulling out a piece of faded yellow paper from her pocket. I watched her curiously, taking the paper from her and unfolding it. There she was… A crumpled image of the girl I had murdered. Scarlet had handed me a Missing Persons flyer.

**Missing**

**Rochelle Angelique**

**5"1, 15-years-of-age at disappearance, 17-years-of-age today.**

**If you have any information plea-**

The sheet had been torn at that point of the page, but it had given me enough information. Rochelle was the tiny Seychellois girl that had moved to the village with her mother and father two years before the rise had happened. I had never really had the chance to talk to her before, but I knew her face from around school.

"This poster was put up last week…" Scarlet admitted. "When I saw it… I had to take it…"

"Why didn't you shoot me that night?" I asked. "You were stood there with the gun loaded and aimed at me… so why didn't you?"

"Because I was scared…" she muttered. "I saw my little brother before me eating one of the youngest yet bravest people I had met in a long time… I had been talking to her on the walkie-talkie before she… She'd left the line open so when I heard her screaming, I hurried inside… I was ready to kill, but then… then I saw you and I froze…

"When I got out of there, I claimed that I had run out of bullets… I was so ashamed of myself and somehow you'd managed to wander off and get yourself taken to that clinic… I was given an award for bravery… I should never have gotten it, but… God, if they knew…"

"It's okay," I said, cautiously putting my hand on hers. She looked at our hands before turning hers over to hold mine. "If it means anything, I'm gratefully you didn't put a bullet between my eyes."

She chuckled. "In a way, I am too… I just wish she wasn't…"

"Me too…" I said. "Why don't we go to talk to her parents? Together. Put them out of their misery. It's not fair letting them continue putting up posters when she's… Wait, what happened to her body?"

"Most likely got finished off," Scarlet shrugged. "She was never found… Could just have easily gotten up and walked off like you lot…"

"No, that's not possible," I said, shaking my head. "1. Her brain was destroyed. 2. The bite doesn't turn you."

"Just thinking about her makes me feel so guilty…" Scarlet sighed. "But I agree… we should go talk to her parents."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

We were only just allowed out of the house – when Mum realised that I was going out with Scarlet, she almost had a panic attack. It was only once she was certain I had taken my medication and was properly concealed that she actually let us out of the house.

I found it amusing that I had to wear the concealer still considering that the entire village now knew that I was out of my grave and wandering around near their homes again. I kept my hood up though, glancing at Scarlet every now and then as she shot people dirty looks as they tried to steer their children away from me as though I would jump on them and bite into their skin at any moment.

Sighing softly to myself, I looked up at the sky – it looked like it was going to rain, the clouds thick and white-grey. There was a cold breeze blowing around us too so I tightened my jacket to keep the air from getting to my already cold skin.

When we got to the tiny cottage where Louis and Daniele Angelique still lived, the first thing that I noticed was that the patio door was left wide open. Eyebrows furrowed, Scarlet and I walked around the edge of the house and peaked inside – the patio door led right into the main lounge of their cottage. Scarlet knocked on the window quickly, pulling her hood up afterwards as the rain started to pour down in that horrible misty stage. From around a doorway, Daniele ran inside with hope in her eyes. When she caught sight of us, the hope seemed to slip away but a natural smile appeared in its place.

"Ah, Scarlet and Arthur Kirkland," she said. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Can we come in?" asked Scarlet. "We have… stuff to tell you…"

"But of course," Daniele said, motioning for us to take a place on the sofa. "How are you both? I trust your mother and father are well? I hope your adjusting back to life in the village okay, Arthur."

I was surprised by how open this woman was being with me, she was the first non-PDS-sufferer to treat me as though I was a normal living being again. "Yeah, they're okay," I replied. "And, uh, well… you know how people in the area are… It's not been a very welcoming experience…"

"Hmm… this village, despite its diversity does seem to have a problem at opening up to difference," Daniele commented. From the same doorway entered Louis and he smiled at me and Scarlet with equal happiness. It was a littler unnerving finally being treated like a human again – even Mum and Dad still treated me like a ticking time-bomb.

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting down in the arm chair near his wife's.

"Well, it's, uh, about…" I started. I sighed at me stutters. "It's about Rochelle…" They sat forwards in their seats, glancing at one another. "You see… the night she went missing… I… I was the one that attacked her… in my rabid state…"

There was a moment of silence before Daniele let out a relieved sigh-chuckle and clutched her husband's hand, both muttering thanks to God. I was confused.

"Uh, not to sound rude, but I just told you attacked your daughter…" I said.

"Did you bite her?"

"What?"

"Did you bite her, Dear," Daniele asked urgently.

"Yeah, I did," I said, glancing at Scarlet who was watching the scene. I could tell she was calculating the situation to make sure that we actually did the right thing. "But…"

"If you bit her in your rabid state then there's still a chance she'll be out there wandering around," Louis grinned. "That's why we leave the patio door open, hoping she'll wander inside or just be returned to us like you have to your family. Thank you for telling us this. Now we know she was bitten we can keep those posters up to keep up pretence!"

I was about to explain that I had killed her and there was no coming back but Scarlet nudged me and shook her head subtly. As I looked at the happy pair, smiling gratefully at me I realised just how messed up the world had become since the rising and if they wanted to believe their daughter was still out there… then who was I to take that away from them.

"I didn't see her after I left the store," I said. "But I definitely bit her. I'm certain of that."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Once the rain had let up, Scarlet and I proceeded to make our way back home. We decided to take the long route through the lower hills, Scarlet actually wanting to spend some time with me for once and let me get some fresh air into my lungs.

"What happened last night?" she asked me, her hands in her pockets as she walked along a broken old stone wall left over from some old ruin that had once stood proudly in that area.

"A lot," I said, looking up at her as she almost fell. I began to explain to her all about what had happened that evening – how mad I had been about being kept in the dark about Alfred and how grateful I was for her actually having the guts to tell me, how Amelia and I had been sent to a different area of the pub after her uncle's outburst had finished, how Alfred had been stood there covered in scars. She was interested to hear about how he was behaving, her expression turning into a disgusted one when I told her all about how he was acting human and trying to deny that he himself was a Rotter like I was. For the first time she told me off for calling myself a Rotter.

What intrigued her most was our journey into the woods after the Rabid's were reported. I explained to her all about the conversation he had forced me into, how Alfred had demanded answers about why I was in the state I was, and yet still wouldn't admit to himself that he was exactly the same as me for once. I told her about the man and the little girl who had been wandering in the woods and how Gilbert had got bitten and confessed his love for Maddy Williams in front of Ivan. She laughed at that.

And then I told her how Alfred had nearly killed them. How he had pointed that big gun at that tiny little child and how it was only when I took out my lenses and reminded him that I was just the same as them, how we were both just the same as them, that he lowered his weapon and allowed them to be tied up to get taken to a clinic so they could have a 'normal' life again.

"He's coming around," I said. "And that might just be what is needed for George to stop hating the world so much…"

"George is a very prejudice man, Arthur…" Scarlet warned. "You should know that. Don't go getting into anything dangerous."

"Says the girl who joined the zombie hunting squad at 17," I smirked. She chuckled but looked at me seriously.

"Really, Arthur," she said. "You remember George Jones as Alfred's Dad, the drill sergeant that made his son get into sports and ridiculed anything that he did that wasn't manly. The man who chased you out of his house with a baseball bat when he found you, Amelia and Alfred playing a drawing game. I've watched him change into a very bad man… The rising changed everyone, Arthur… Him especially."

It took me a moment, but I nodded to her request and continued to walk along the hills until we reached the dirt path that led down to the old train station. It was still working though there were no guards – they'd updated it to include security cameras to make sure people actually did pay for their tickets. When we got closer, I blinked as I saw someone sat on a suitcase on the platform. I glanced at Scarlet before running down to the person, stopping at the steps and taking in the sight before me.

Amelia was sat on her suitcase, slouched and her arms wrapped around her defensively. From what I could tell, she had as much concealer on as I did but her whole frame was shaking. It looked as though she had been sat out there during the rain too, so I hurried up the steps and knelt beside her not caring that Scarlet was hanging around in the background. Amelia jumped as I reached her, gently and quickly dabbing her eyes to remove any traces that she'd been crying.

But I'd already seen and pulled her into a gentle hug. "Amelia, what are you doing out here by yourself?" I asked. "What's happened? Do your parents know you're out here?"

She shook her head and pulled away from me, standing and moving back. "I'm leaving, Arthur…" she said. "I have to get away from here…"

"What's happened?"

"Mom and Dad went out to the shops and Ivan showed up at the house…" she said, wrapping her arms around herself again. "He started painting something on the garage door in red paint… So I went out to check even though I'd just woke up… He was painting 'PDS' on the door… He told me it was happening to every house in the area that had a Rotter in it… I couldn't be fucked with him so went inside but he barged in and all but threw me into my bedroom… I was so scared, Arthur… He hit me and then got my concealer and started to 'make me up' saying I needed to fit in better… This village will never accept us, Arthur… Never! They're too scared of my uncle!"

"Amie…"

"Even my Mom and Dad are too scared of him to do anything!" she sobbed. "I just feel so totally alone in this place… I'm scared to leave the house… Yesterday was a once in a life time thing I thought I'd try… That was all a show because I found you! God… I feel sick being in this place – anyone could come in and try to kill me at any time! You saw what happened to Bella! I can't do this anymore… I hate being alone!"

"Amie, you…"

"I just…"

Tired of being cut off each time, I held her face by her cheeks gently and pressed my lips against hers to stop her from talking. She seemed surprised, her body tensed before it loosened up and she relaxed. I didn't care that Scarlet was probably smirking in the distance, this was something I had needed to do since before the rising and it seemed like the best option at the time.

I looked down at her as we pulled apart and smiled at her a little. "You're not alone, you idiot," I said, pressing another kiss to her lips. "You have me. You've always had me. Now let's get you home and out of this weather with your parents who are probably worried sick about you."

She looked up at me, her frame still shaking. "But what if they come back…"

"Ivan's a moron," I said. "That was likely a one-time thing. Times really are changing, Amie. I've seen it for myself, and in time people like George won't exist."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I needed to talk to Alfred about all of this. What George was doing to our homes and how he had people frightening his own niece. I set off alone, letting Scarlet take Amelia back to her home as she knew this was something that I needed to go through alone.

I hadn't been to their home in such a long time, and yet it hadn't changed a bit. Except for the large cage that had been built next to it. It seemed as though on a good day it was used as a football pitch for the school nearby, but in it at the moment was Gilbert. I blinked as I watched him from a distance – the gate was locked and the bars were too high for him to climb so he was totally trapped, his walk turned into a limp from the bandaged bite on his calf. At the gate was Antonio, the first I'd properly seen him out in daylight since Bella had been murdered again.

Gilbert was pleading with him to get him some food – apparently he had been in there since the night before, and I somehow believed him what with the savagery of the HVF. I didn't want to get too close just in case it set Antonio off – it wouldn't seem fair to him that I was alive on the other side of the street at the same time as his girlfriend being taken from him again. So I stood back and watched as Antonio nodded and wandered off towards his store to get something for him to eat.

Rolling my eyes a little as I walked closer, Gilbert looked at me and sighed a little.

"I suppose I deserve this…" he muttered. I said nothing. Walking past, I saw that George's house wasn't exempt from the 'PDS' rule – his garage door had those three large letters painted in red for the whole street to see. My eyes only leaving the sight once I had made my way down to the front door, I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell – watching as a large silhouette came into view. I looked up at Alfred as the door opened, taking in his surprised expression at me openly walking around in daylight.

"Arthur… what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, stepping outside and closing the door. "My Dad will freak the fuck out if he sees you here!"

"I don't care," I responded. "That man is nothing but a bully and he needs taking down a peg. I bet he didn't tell you about what happened to Amelia this morning?"

"No… Why, what's happened?"

"Ivan attacked her. Forced himself into her house whilst your aunt and uncle were out and assaulted her with her."

Alfred blinked and looked at me in total shock, glancing back at the front door just in case. "I had no… What the fuck?"

"Your father is in charge of the HVF in this area," I said. "In fact, he is in charge of the _only_ HVF in the country… He has been the one tormenting people about 'Rotters' and getting stuff like that graffitied on people's homes."

"Things like what…?" Alfred asked, moving past me to look at the garage. His eyes widened as he took in the letters, looking back over at me.

"He isn't going to stop, Alfred… He hates people like us," I said.

"Like us…"

"People who have come back from the dead!" I snapped. "Stop pretending… You and I are the same Alfred. We're like Amelia too. Your father killed Bella Martens in cold blood because she was like us."

"Bella?!"

"Yes! Bella Martens was back with Antonio… He had to stand and watch as your dad shot her in the fucking face!"

"I… I don't believe you…" Alfred said, shaking his head. I deadpanned. "He wouldn't… He's okay with me! He… He…"

"You don't know him anymore, Alfred…" I sighed. "And the sooner he is dealt with… the sooner everyone can get on with their lives…"

Rubbing his head, Alfred looked at me sadly. "I'll talk to him, okay?" he said. "I'll get him to see reason…"

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Scarlet had found me stood on the bridge above the stream in the middle of the village. I was staring down at the soft current as she walked up beside me and put her hand on my shoulder.

"Amelia's parents seemed pretty happy to see her," she smiled. "They're pissed with George for letting Ivan do that to her, but they've got her calm again."

"Good," I said. "I'll go see her later on."

"You two are pretty cute together, you know," smirked Scarlet. I rolled my eyes and nudged her. "You are! There's no denying it!"

"Whatever you say, Sis," I chuckled. To my left I could hear a rumble of an engine so Scarlet and I hopped up onto the wall and sat down, watching as George Jones drove past in his Jeep. He looked out his window as he passed; his eyes cold and his face pale. I didn't like to think about what was going on in his head – Alfred had likely talked to him by that point and if he knew that it had been me that had told him about what had been going on then I was likely to be… well, a dead-man-walking…

"He looks as though he's got a screw loose," Scarlet said, looking at the car as it sped off into the distance. I hummed my agreement. "Come on, we'd better start making our way home… Let's get Mum some flowers or something to butter her up a little."

I chuckled and walked with her to the store, staying with her and helping pick out some flowers for Mum and a big bar of chocolate for Dad. Scarlet had her backpack with her so she kept the chocolate in there and thought it'd look a bit better if she carried the flowers home. I agreed.

The walk home took us roughly 15 minutes after the 10 we'd spent in the store, and for once things with Scarlet finally felt as though they had gone back to normal. I didn't even care about the fact there would be graffiti on our garage when we got home – who cared if I was a PDS sufferer? People were finally starting to understand we weren't the monsters they should be fearing anymore.

But what I wasn't expecting was a sight that made both Scarlet and I freeze on the spot.

There was a body in front of our garage. A lifeless male body dumped like a marionette with broken strings. A body I knew and whose strange blonde hair made my own stand on end.

_**Notes:**_

**I am being cruel with my updates, aren't I?**

**I'm sorry guys but anyone who has seen the series (or American's who are soon to get In The Flesh on BBC America ;) ) will know…**

**Next chapter is the last one guys! Hope to see you there!**


	6. When Good Men Do Bad Things

**Rotters**

**Chapter Six**

**When Good Men Do Bad Things**

Have you ever been in one of those moments where everything just stops? Where the world just falls silent despite any other noise that is happening around you and your stomach churns like you can finally feel the world spinning beneath your feet? That was what I was feeling at that moment in time – my chest was tight and my stomach kept bubbling like I had eaten something foul. Nothing was registering around me, like my vision had been blurred around the edges so that I could only focus on the one thing right in front of me.

The smell was worse than even my nightmares were producing and there was so much blood… I could feel Scarlet tugging on my sleeve as I started to make my way over to the body, but I shrugged my arm out of her hold and let my feet continue to lead me over.

I dropped to me knees as I reached him, turning Alfred's cold pale body over. His eyes were wide open; his half decayed state worsening already because of the length of time he had already lost. His eyes… His eyes were staring right at me, cold and blue – like the ice that was starting to run down my spine. In the back of his neck I could see the handle of a knife – one whose handle was carved with the initials 'G.J.' I pulled it out and watched as further blood leaked from the wound, putting it into my pocket wordlessly.

The sounds around me were starting to return but they were still so muffled I couldn't make out what was going on – Scarlet was trying to talk to me hurriedly, her movements in my peripheral vision hasty and edgy. But still I stared at the corpse of my friend. No one could ever prepare me for the feeling of knowing I had lost one of the best friends I had ever had twice in such a short space of time.

You hear it all the time, the ways parents talk to children about death and how you will only ever lose a single person once that way. But twice, twice I had lost Alfred. I could almost hear George laughing in the background. Scarlet's voice finally pierced through my senses though as she turned me and shook me. I looked at her with wide eyes, my eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Take him out back," I said simply.

"What?"

"Take him out of sight, make sure no one tries to get rid of him," I said before shrugging out of her hold and walking off down the street. I could hear her shouting at me to come back but my feet and head were in sync for once. I knew that I wasn't going to go inside until I had spoken to the man who did this – I knew that if I went on the way I was going that I could end up in the same state, and that really didn't bother me. It was as though that evening 2 years ago had started to be relived and there was nothing I could do other than to take a different path than I did before.

I walked through the village, my hands balled tightly into fists. I glanced at people as I walked passed them, some of them nodded to me and smiled whilst others sent dirty looks and walked away or into their homes like I would attack them at any moment.

Enough was enough.

Everything that I had seen happen in this village towards people like me had all been boiling up to this point. Bella's murder, my attack at the fair, the Rabids in the woods, Amelia's attack and now Alfred's murder. It had all been spurred on by the constant hatred of a man who had not gotten over the years when the dead had been walking through the streets. This one man had infected more people with ignorance and abhorrence quicker than the Rabids had feasted.

They were right. They were all right. All the people I had talked to in the clinic, Francis, Amelia, they were all right about the same damn point that I had been trying to hide away from for so long.

The dead don't kill their own. Only humans, the people who are the majority, those who ease into power so quickly, they have the mental capacity to know right from wrong – they know what they are doing could hurt someone. They are the ones that should be feared. Not the dead. The living. It always ends that way.

Taking a sharp left as I walked through the shopping district, I ducked through an alleyway and continued my way through the village. I was determined. I had never felt so much hatred for someone in my entire life – before and afterlife. Sure, there had been people that had irritated me, the people that I wanted bad things to happen to because they made people feel small and pathetic. Everyone had that. But this was so much different. I could hear the blood pumping through my system again, something that I had not felt in a very long time. This was all happening because of the actions of a single man.

Leaving the alleyway, I looked up and saw that I was outside Amelia's house. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was at her window and I knew from how quickly she ran away from it that she had seen me. I was torn between telling her right away or waiting until a later point – but then again, Alfred was her cousin and she had more right to know about this than I did. I looked around as the front door opened, unable to hide the broken expression on my face. She ran over to me, looking me up and down.

I looked over myself too as her eyes widened, understanding now why some of the closer people had looked at me apprehensively – my jacket was covered in blood from where I had held Alfred.

"Arthur, what the hell happened to you?" she asked, moving closer to me and holding my cheeks gently. I ducked my head down.

"Amie… I'm so sorry…" I muttered.

"What… What's going on?"

"It's Alfred… He's dead…"

There was a moment of silence before Amelia let me go and backed away a little. She looked at me in confusion, shaking her head. "You're… No… He can't be… He…"

"He was dumped outside my house…" I explained. "He had a knife in the back of his neck… It was George…"

"He was murdered by his own father…" she murmured. I nodded. "I think we need to pay my dear uncle a visit."

"Way ahead of you," I said.

Even though I was a little apprehensive about Amelia coming with me, I was definitely happy that I had one more person behind me on this. Knowing the size of George Jones and the sheer barbarity of the kill he had induced on his own son, there was no reason for him to hold back on murdering either of us twice as viciously.

Eventually we got to the grounds that led to his home. We stayed back for a moment, looking at the caged football grounds beside his house. Antonio was stood outside talking to Gilbert who seemed to be locked inside. Staying quiet, we tried to hear what they were saying.

"Come on, Toni… Please," begged Gilbert. "They think I'm going to turn because they don't believe Arthur… I may be bitten but that was nearly a day ago… I would have turned by now if all those rumours were true… Please… You know I'm diabetic… Could you please bring me a sandwich or something from your shop… Please? You know I'll pay you back when I get out of here…"

"You expect me to help you when you just stood by and watched as my girlfriend was shot in the face?" retorted Antonio.

"I never lifted my weapon," Gilbert said defensively. "I was stood outside near Scarlet. I may not have helped her but I never pulled the trigger… Antonio, we were friends… She was a good person, I would never do anything to hurt her… Hell, I tried to find the fuckers that killed her the first time… Please…"

Antonio sighed. "Fine," he said, glancing at George's house. "I need to get something from under the counter anyway. I'll bring you the damn sandwich."

"Thank you so much."

We watched as he walked away, acting as though we had just started walking up the path as he went by. He nodded to us and continued on his way, so we moved on towards the cage. Gilbert looked at us sadly as we wandered past, not a single word leaving his lips as we entered the long driveway that led down to George's front door. I looked at the garage that stopped half way down the drive and noticed how fresh the paint was – he had clearly painted over the compulsory 'PDS' sign that every home with a PDS sufferer had to have smeared all over their homes.

I didn't bother with knocking, I just took hold of the handle of their front door and opened it – walking through the hallway until I got through to the living room. George was sat in his armchair, looking out at the fields behind his home. He didn't even look round as I came into the room, Amelia hot on my heals. I looked around the living room – it was filled with the old memorials that had been created (according to Mum) when Alfred had first been declared dead: the photo of him in his uniform with the black sash over the frame, the angels and photos of God.

"Get up," I ordered. George simply looked over his shoulder at me disinterestedly. "I said, get the fuck up NOW."

"What's all the noise about…?" came a voice behind us. We looked round for a moment as Rosalynn Jones came into the room, Alfred's mother. She looked around at us then at the room, seeming to be genuinely confused. "George… What's going on? Why is all this out again? Where's Alfred?"

"Alfred who?" snapped George, sitting back in his chair.

"Our son…" said Rosalynn.

"He murdered him," I said, glaring at the back of George's head. Rosalynn made a horrified gasp so I pulled the knife from my pocket. She took it from me hesitantly, taking in all the blood and the initials.

"Alfred never rose," George said, staring out the window still. "His body may have come back but that was never him. My son wouldn't betray me like that. He knew how important it was to kill every Rotter. He knew. He never would have sympathised with them. But when the next rising happens, the good will come back. The good will rise and he'll finally be home."

"THERE ISN'T GOING TO BE ANOTHER RISING!" I spat. "THIS WAS A ONE TIME THING! THIS… HAVING THE MEDICINE AND THE CHANCE TO HAVE YOUR LOVED ONES BACK… THIS WAS A FUCKING GIFT! THIS WAS A GIFT AND YOU FUCKING RUINED IT, YOU NARROW-MINDED PRICK! YOU HAD YOUR SON! YOU HAD HIM AND YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!"

"How could you, George…" whispered Rosalynn, walking past me and Amelia as he rose from his seat threateningly. We watched as she moved closer to him. "Why would you kill our son?"

"It wasn't."

"YES, IT WAS!" screamed Rosalynn, and to our surprise she started to slash at his hands with his knife as he reached to hold her. I ran forwards and pulled her back, Amelia managing to get the knife from her as George looked between us and his hands. Rosalynn turned and cried against me. "YOU'RE THE MONSTER, GEORGE! YOU!"

"You fucking Rotters…" hissed George. "You're turning my family against me…"

I shifted Rosalynn into Amelia's hold and stepped towards George. "You're doing that all by yourself, George."

He looked at me for a moment before running from the room. I blinked and followed after him, getting to the door just in time to hear the loud bang of a shotgun. I froze for a moment before stepping outside hesitantly and walking down the drive.

Antonio lowered his gun, a disturbingly neutral expression on his face as he looked at me. George Jones' body was lying flat on the ground, blood pooling around him from the wound on his chest. I glanced over at Gilbert who had frozen mid-bite of his sandwich – no words were exchanged, just a silent agreement not to speak the truth of what had just happened there.

He walked away silently to return to the shop and hide his gun away once more just as Amelia and Rosalynn hurried outside and to my side. There was a sob from Rosalynn before she ran back inside, but Amelia looked at me anxiously.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I never saw what happened," I said half-truthfully. "We'd better check on your aunt…"

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I fiddled with my tie awkwardly, my hands shaking a little. Mum came over to me and sorted it for me, smiling sadly as she took in my appearance.

"Go get your coat on," she said. "Amelia, Ben and Mary are waiting downstairs."

"Okay…" I muttered, walking past her. She followed me downstairs, getting her own coat too. It was a miserable day – that horrible misty rain was falling and making the air damp. I put my coat on and entered the living room, looking at my father, sister, girlfriend and her parents all dressed in black. When they saw my mother behind me they stood and we made our way out to the cars, getting inside before heading off to the church.

I looked up at the old building and took a deep breath as I got out of the car. Amelia held my hand as she met me by the gate, all of us walking inside and across the muddy grass. Rosalynn was stood outside with Father Vargas, Lovina and Felicina behind him with Ludwig. Everyone was there – the members of the disbanded HVF, Antonio, old friends. Feliciana had her arm around Lovina who was doing her best to hold back her tears – and I knew the old wounds from the first time must be fresh in her mind.

We went inside the church where there were two coffins at the front alter. A joint funeral. It was a disgrace in my opinion – the victim and his killer being given a shared ceremony of remembrance. But Rosalynn had lost her entire family due to the initial loss of her son, I wasn't going to say anything.

After prayers were said and hymns were sung, I stepped forward with the others who had been asked to be involved and took a handle of Alfred's coffin. It was heavy, but I could handle it. We carried him and his father out into the graveyard where there were two fresh graves waiting. They were lowered down into the earth, two white crosses (marks of the heroes of the HVF) were set at the heads.

Amelia stepped beside me and gripped my hand tight as we watched the dirt get put back into the hole. She could feel how tense my hands were already so kept her grip firm yet comforting as we said farewell to the twice fallen hero.

_**Notes:**_

**The End.**

**Thanks for the continued support there's been on this story. I know it's not been one of my most popular stories but there have been some readers which has made it worth it. **

**I'm debating whether to continue with a sequel just yet considering there's been rumours about a second series of In The Flesh – but we will have to wait and see.**

**Also, challenge time: read this whole story with Warrior by Demi Lovato on repeat. Hmmm. Salty gold….**

**Yeah, uh. Thanks for reading :) I hope you look out for my other stories (I have another zombie AU on the go based around The Last of Us and The Walking Dead *winkwink*) and have a nice day :)**


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